Veritas (Atto Melani) Read Online Free PDF

through the papers. My poor wife lifted a hand to her temple: I realised she was suffering one of those
terrible headaches that had tortured her ever since we had fallen into poverty. What news did those papers hold? Was the end of our troubles inscribed there, or was it all just another hoax? I
could feel my belly churning with anxiety.
    “The documents are all here:
Geburtsurkunde, Kaufkontrakt
and, above all, the
Hofbefreyung
,” said the notary at last, in a mixture of Italian and German.
“Check the accuracy of the data,” he added, placing the documents before me, although I had by no means grasped their nature: “Signor Abbot Milani, your benefactor . .
.”
    “Melani,” I corrected him, aware that Atto’s signature could give rise to similar misunderstandings.
    “Ah, yes,” he said, after examining a page carefully. “As I was saying, Signor Abbot Melani and his procurators have been very diligent and precise. But the imperial court is
very strict: if anything is wrong, there is no hope.”
    “The imperial court?” I asked, full of hope.
    “If the court doesn’t accept it, the donation cannot take effect,” the notary continued. “But now read this
Geburtsurkunde
carefully and tell me if all is in
order.”
    Having said this, he placed before me the first of four documents, which – to my no small surprise – proved to be a birth certificate bearing my name, specifying the day, month, year
and place of my birth, as well as my paternity and maternity. This was truly singular, given that I was a foundling, and not even I knew when, where or to whom I had been born.
    “This, then, is the Gesellenbrief,” insisted our interlocutor, who, after gazing out of the window, suddenly seemed to be in a great hurry. “I repeat, the court is very strict.
Especially when it comes to the question of apprenticeship; otherwise the confraternity could create problems for you.”
    “The confraternity?” I asked, not having the foggiest idea what he was talking about.
    “Now let’s proceed, since there is little time. You can ask your questions later.”
    I would have liked to say that I still had not understood what purpose all those documents (false ones, to boot) served. Above all, the notary’s words did not explain what Atto
Melani’s donation consisted of. Nonetheless, I obeyed and refrained from commenting. Cloridia kept quiet too, her eyes glazed by the migraine and her fluxion of the chest.
    “The Hofbefreyung, to tell the truth, is less urgent: I’m here to guarantee its validity. Since time is short, you could look it over in the carriage.”
    “In the carriage?” said Cloridia in surprise. “Where to?”
    “To check that what is contained in the
Kaufkontrakt
is correct, where else?” he answered, as if stating the obvious, and he got to his feet, beckoning us to follow him.
    We had entered the notary’s office with a thousand hopes in our hearts, and now we were leaving it with just as many questions on our minds.

    We were a little surprised when the carriage that was carrying us – my wife, myself, Simonis and the notary – began to travel away from the centre of the city. We
soon reached the walls and passed through one of the city gates, emerging onto a bare and icy plain.
    On the journey, while my wife and I huddled in a corner against the cold and Simonis gazed out of the window with inexpressive eyes, I observed the notary and pondered. He seemed to be in a
great hurry; to do exactly what, was not clear. There was no doubt that the two documents he had set before me were blatant forgeries, and came from Abbot Melani. Atto – I remembered well
– was well versed in the art of falsifying papers, even more important ones than these . . . This time, I had to acknowledge, his aim had been less reprehensible: he simply wanted to make the
donation effective.
    The notary returned my gaze: “I know what you’re wondering, and I apologise for not having thought of it before.